


Any better than this

by kenporusty



Series: Wizards At Play [1]
Category: Real Person Fiction, The Hobbit (2012) RPF, Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, If you look hard you might see some Aidean, M/M, Really it's not much, This fic really got away from me, not you dd, real person fiction - Freeform, shameless abuse of an AU, teen and up because of language, wizardry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another Young Wizards universe crossover. I think I've provided enough context for people unfamiliar with the YW universe to comprehend what is going on here.</p><p>Aidan slips one day and uses his wizardry in front of Dean.<br/>Now he has to either play it off, or come clean to his friend and on-screen brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any better than this

**Author's Note:**

> This fic got away from me. Badly. Originally I just wanted an exploration of Aidan's wizardry. Then James butted in, and, of course, Dean came along as well.  
> These people have officially moved from real people to character personas.
> 
> I don't claim to know anyone mentioned here, and this is a complete work of fiction, for the enjoyment of the fans.
> 
> Not beta'd and written at ungodly hours, so I apologize for any grammatical and syntax errors or general clunkiness.

Aidan Turner stood in the shadow of the back lot green screen, gaze fixed on a single point on in the overwhelmingly blue Wellington sky. He worried his lip and closed his eyes as the words came to him, supplying him the variables he needed. Under his breath, he whispered the words the floated in his mind’s eye.

With a whoosh of muffled air, he blinked out from the green screen lot.

And reappeared in James Nesbitt’s trailer. Nesbitt, startled out of his reverie, jumped and shot a glare at the younger actor.

“Lad, warn me before you come in like that,” his voice rang stern, but his face and eyes crinkled with a smile.

Aidan turned a bright grin on his elder, and laughed, a clear, ringing sound, punctuated with a cry that betrayed the sheer joy of being able to practice their art unimpeded. James actually stood, set down the book, crossed the small space, and clapped his costar on the shoulder hard enough to rock Aidan back a little.

“I’m so not sorry, James,” Aidan was still laughing and he squeezed James’ arm and broke away.

“I felt the same way as you did the first time I cut free from Ireland.” James smiled. “Being here is just so,” he took a deep breath, “freeing. But I wouldn’t waste your energy on those short jumps and other small wizardries, don’t forget we’re filming a movie here.”

Aidan nodded, still smiling, and turned, pounding down the few metal stairs of James’ trailer. He jogged the lot back to his own, banging the door open in his rush to get in. He stopped and his face fell slightly at the sight on his couch. He shut and locked the door as he felt the backlash suck a small portion of energy from his personal supply; a repayment for the energy wasted in that short jump.

“Did you hear that truck backfire? That was insane,” a sharp New Zealand accent said casually from the sofa.

Dean O’Gorman was sprawled across Aidan’s sofa, idly flipping through a magazine. Not for the first time did Aidan bless the Irish method of wizardry - all memory and information you needed coming to you through your head - and the fact he declined Shaun’s offer to convert him from the Knowledge to a digital Manual. Shaun - his Advisory - was taken aback, but understood. Surely Dean would find the Manual, and then there would be explanations, and after the debacle of coming out as wizard to his parents, he did not want to repeat the affair. Even to a man like Dean, whose Kiwi friendliness seemed to override every negative mood and thought he could possibly have.

Unless he was sleep deprived.

“It was, wonder what happened.” Aidan played dumb. His heart wrenched. He swatted at Dean’s feet, “budge up.”

Dean drew his knees up, but dropped the magazine as Aidan dropped onto the couch, the bright smile fading slightly. Sunlight came through the small window, cutting sharp contrasts over Aidan’s olive skin. Dean chewed his lip slightly, and then sighed.

“What’s up? You seem really,” Dean paused to search for the word, “bothered by something.”

“Nothing, just a slight dip in energy,” it was the truth.

Dean sent him a shocked look, “our ball of energy Turner suffered a momentary lapse in his never ending energy? Call the presses.”

“Oi, stuff it, you sound like James,” Aidan threw a pillow at Dean’s face. The pillow was caught midair and sent back to Aidan, who muttered a few words and felt the force field wink into place. As the pillow slid down and around, following the curvature of the field, he realized what he did.

Dean’s look was priceless.

“So, Jedi tricks don’t need the stupid wave, huh,” Dean said flatly.

Aidan realized his default field was farther from his face than he intended. He used the default settings he worked in to dodge a clingy Russell. He bit his lip and then broke into his trademark smile and laugh.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The field disappeared and Aidan sagged again. The sofa moved and Dean was there next to him, turning his shoulders to look him in the eyes.

“You sure you are alright? Do you want me to leave so you can get some sleep?” The concern in those blue eyes was disconcerting to Aidan.

He plastered a smile on his face and shook his head, “nah, I’m fine, mate. Might go take a walk and get some fresh air, though. Want to come with?”

Dean smiled, reassured, “sure thing. Almost time for them to start serving us hungry actors some dinner, anyway.”

He got up and pulled his shoes on, waiting at the door for Aidan, who took his time to stand and stretch, shirt sliding up over his stomach. He looked at Dean with a playful smirk.

“Like what you see there, eh?” Aidan teased, dragging his shirt up higher with his hand.

“God no, put those away,” Dean over reacted, trying - and failing - not to laugh.

“Well, okay then,” Aidan shrugged and straightened his shirt. He tapped his pocket to make sure he still had his keys and barreled out the door.

The sun was slipping farther down the sky, and the air began to chill, preparing for night. Aidan stretched in the failing sunlight, absorbing the rays like a starved man. Well, he was from Ireland, and they saw the sun so rarely, so the argument stands that Aidan is a starved man - if only in regards to sunlight.

Aidan and Dean walked in amiable silence for a few paces, at least until they left the trailer park. Dean shot a dirty look towards Martin, who, as always, was ribbing them shamelessly from the door of his trailer.

“You’re no better than the Hobbiton gossips, Freeman,” Aidan added in with a laugh. Dean grinned and gave him a high-five.

Once free of the trailer park, they wandered aimlessly, talking about their respective hometowns. Dean was still very new to the cast, but he and Aidan had taken to one another as if they truly were the Durin brothers. As Dean talked and walked towards the main gate Aidan’s mind wandered back to Ireland.

The beautiful, broken, entirely too green island that he shared with James Nesbitt. The island that so restricted his working of wizardry that he could not practice the Art openly as they would here, for fear of the overlays. Here, in New Zealand, there were not thousands of years of wizardly toxic waste build up just waiting for to cause wizardry to malfunction. Here he could think to himself in the Speech - the language of wizards - without repercussions. Here he could construct a spell that would take him to the moon without worry of ending up without the force field he relied on, or with the force field, but in a remote field of Kazakhstan or some such nonsense.

Aidan loved it.

_“I can feel you over here. Going to tell him?”_ James Nesbitt’s thoughts cut his daydream down to size. He blinked, but kept pace with Dean, talking about which of the local beers he’d found to be the best.

_“I don’t want to scare my brother off. I couldn’t handle a third Fili,”_ Aidan retorts. He hears James snort in the back of his mind then the connection ebbed.

“Earth to Aidan, you there, mate? You sure you don’t want to go lie down?” Dean was waving his hand in front of Aidan’s face.

Aidan blinked and grabbed the hand, pretending to bring it in to bite. Instead, he smirked and licked the tip of Dean’s index finger. Dean’s face ran through a gambit of emotions, beginning and ending with confused amusement, while his skin betrayed him and flushed pink. Aidan kept the smirk, but dropped Dean’s hand.

Heavy hands clapped onto their shoulders and William’s face dropped into both their peripheral visions.

“So we’re thinking of blowing off the craft service guys for the pub, you two in?” William smiled at them both.

“I’m always down for the pub,” the Kiwi squeaked. Aidan nodded in agreement.

_“Powers That Be, you want to make things more complicated for me, don’t you,”_ Aidan thought.

So now, there would be alcohol, Dean, AND James. Nothing good could come of this. He could get out of this. He could speak just the few words he spoke before, change the destination, and be in his trailer before anyone knew what happened.

But then he would have to explain not only to Dean, but also to everyone else on set, that he, Aidan Turner, was a wizard.

Everyone on set except James, of course. They spotted one another the first day of read-through. Something happened, some spark ignited, and they became close, much closer than simple costars. Aidan spent more time in the company of James, nursing that singular thread that tied them together, while weaving other threads to strengthen their bonds.

Their companionship quickly became more than just wizardry.

Rob left, Dean came in, and Aidan felt himself being pulled away from James. The Powers move in mysterious ways, and they were all brought together for a reason. He was still in the process of figuring the reason out. Sure, he still spent more time in the company of James, especially at night, where they were sure to raise a sound barrier, and Aidan perfected his trick of quietly teleporting between the trailers. But he also began to spend more time with his on-screen brother.

He wasn’t sure, if it came down to it, he would be able to choose.

His friend or the magic.

How Dean reacted to the wizardry would guide his choice.

Tomorrow was Sunday. He would talk to Dean on Sunday.

At the pub, he made sure to temper his interactions with Dean and James with the rest of the cast. He felt good about his control. That night, he slept and didn’t dream.

*****

Sunday proved to be just as bright as Saturday. Aidan found himself, annoyingly, awake early, leaning on the headrest of the small bed, fingers laced together over his stomach, and staring at the ceiling. He sighed as he heard the door open. Dean apparently was awake early as well.

The steps through the trailer were not Dean’s. He sat up and peered down the small hallway. James sauntered into view, and stopped to lean on the door frame.

“I can feel your discontent from my trailer. What’s bugging you, lad?” he asked softly.

“Did I wake you?” Aidan asked, moving to the side and gesturing for James to join him.

“No. Been awake for some time,” James pushed off the frame, slipping off his slippers. The bed creaked as James crawled up high enough to sit upright against the headboard. Firm hands maneuvered Aidan between his legs, back to chest, and arms draped over Aidan’s shoulders, hands clasped just above his heart.

A soft kiss to Aidan’s curls.

“Talk to me lad,” James said softly, his accent thicker with sleep. “Powers know that something is bothering you.”

“Dean,” Aidan whispered.

James’ breathing stopped briefly before resuming its steady rhythm.

“You have feelings for him, do you?” James asked casually.

“Aye, but how do I bring up this,” he waved his hands uselessly, fingers tracing out characters in the Speech. “I made a mistake yesterday, and I think I might have to come out to him. I’m scared to, James. My parents didn’t take the news very well. I’m surprised I’m allowed home at all,” Aidan laughed bitterly.

“I never told my parents. I never told anyone else, except those who needed to know.” James’ hands moved to rub Aidan’s shoulders and upper arms. Slow soothing motions.

“I,” Aidan’s voice cracked. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I want to share his with my on-screen brother. I want him to know what I’m doing when I’m staring off into space. I want him to be completely open with me, and I want to be completely open with him.”

James took a deep breath, “do you love him?”

“Fancy, maybe, but love, no.” Aidan twisted so he could look James in the eyes, “the only one I care about in that way is you.”

James felt his breath catch as Aidan spoke. Wizards don’t lie. To misrepresent the truth would be courting disaster, especially where the Speech was involved. The universal language which everything, animate or no, from the tiny quark to the tallest mountain, knew and listened to when spoken. The language that literally held the universe together. The language of wizards and wizardly work, and so universal that some cultures used it as an official language of discourse, commerce, and government.

He pulled Aidan up so they were face to face. Aidan’s long legs folded around James’ hips. Aidan’s hands rested on James’ shoulders, one hand ghosting back to the soft patch of neck between the collar of his tee shirt and his hairline. James’ hands found their ways to the small of Aidan’s back and between his shoulder blades.

Now chest to chest they rested their foreheads together briefly, waiting for someone to make the first move. They always waited. James moved first. Leaning up to press his lips lightly against Aidan’s. The touch brought a wave of sensation. Wizards so adept in the speech, connecting on an intimate level brought a new level of sensations. Aidan shivered as James’ mind reached for his. Two walls of green - how stereotypical - clashing, one tainted with age and experience; one younger, less experienced. They mentally reached for one another, to tangle in the most intimate way. When Aidan heard the soft utterances of James' mind, he took that moment to deepen the kiss, Aidan’s eager tongue darting out to swipe James’ lower lip.

Within moments, they were a knot of passion, clashing teeth, nipped, kiss-swollen lips, and whispered, impassioned names. The shared wizardry, the shared connection between them heightened the experience. James’ shirt was on the floor somewhere, his basketball shorts riding dangerously low on his hips. Aidan’s shirt was rucked up, with James caressing his sensitive nipples, and dragging fingertips through the light hair of his chest.

James broke and leaned his forehead on Aidan’s. Aidan whined at the loss of contact, panting to catch his breath.

“Go talk to Dean. Show him what you need to. I’ll be waiting for you.” James said softly, pushing Aidan softly off his hips.

“Dean, can I talk with you?” Aidan caught his costar as he crossed the lot, script revisions in hand.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Dean turned a bright smile on the Irishman. Aidan’s insides twisted.

“Trailer,” Aidan nodded towards his trailer, hurrying across the lot. He heard Dean following a few paces behind.

“Listen, I have something to tell you,” Aidan said in a squeak once the door was shut.

“What that you’re in love with me and want to shag me senseless?” Dean wagged his eyebrows, crossing to the refrigerator and helping himself to one of Aidan’s beers.

“What? No. God, stop reading those horrible fan fics.” Aidan waved him off, giving him a not-so-dirty look for taking a beer without asking. Inside, his guts went cold from the half lie. He was not truly in love with Dean O’Gorman. Still, wizards don’t usually lie.

“They’re kind of funny, in a disgusting sort of way. Just imagine what would happen if you got those poor souls alone.” The smirk on Dean’s lips before he took a long pull was almost pornographic.

Aidan sighed, paced, and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Dean,” he squeaked. “Dean, I’m a wizard.”

“What like Gandalf? All magic spells and Balrogs, or did the others start up a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I was unaware of.” Dean genuinely sounded innocent. Not what Aidan was expecting.

It threw the Irishman for a loop, “more like Gandalf than D&D. Remember the other day, you threw the pillow at me,”

“And it slid off about six inches from your nose, yeah? Great bit to set that one up quickly, actually. You’ve got better reaction time than me,” Dean sat on the sofa, grinning at Aidan.

“But, what?” Aidan stammered through several more unintelligible syllables before settling on, “You fucker. You knew the whole time.”

Dean sighed heavily, “yes, I did, and I’m surprised you didn’t ping me. You seemed to have caught on to Nesbitt right quick.”

Aidan sat heavily on the sofa beside Dean, “so I guess all I can say is _dai stihó_ , cousin,” Aidan was grinning now, glad to use the greeting of wizards.

“I thought you’d never say that to me. Dai, brother,” Dean pulled him in to a crushing hug.

“You’re a terrible man, you know that?” Aidan finally laughed the free laugh of a man without worries. The laugh of a man who has finally gotten everything off his chest and the world did not come crashing down.

Almost.

The matters of the heart would be settled later. For now, he had a friend and a comrade.

_“Finally!”_ James’ voice came in through his mind.

_“You knew, you twat.”_ Aidan retorted.

_“Of course I did. I’m observant, you’re not. Now get back here.”_

Aidan didn’t respond. Dean was looking at him with bright eyes, talking about the various works he’d done during his life as a wizard. The pranks he pulled on the set of The Almighty Johnsons and Young Hercules. A dam broke, and they could truly be as close as Aidan wanted with no more secrets.

Aidan had a brother and a cousin in wizardry. A land where he could freely use his powers. And the best friends a man could ask for. Ireland looked dismal compared to this strange land where winter was summer and everyone was so unwaveringly friendly.

Things really couldn’t get any better than this.

**Author's Note:**

> Those who are not opposed to reading young adult fiction - or who have kids in the YA range - should really check out Diane Duane's work. The Young Wizards universe is incredibly expansive and just wonderful. Once you're in, you're hooked.
> 
>  
> 
> I should be very sorry for abusing her universe like this, but I'm not.


End file.
